I arrived back in Mumbai on the night of 2 March. Arriving at the airport, a phone call from my friend notified me he was not coming to the airport to meet me as expected.
I was disappointed, but not bent out of shape or terrified as I would have been had this happened 4 months ago.
So I collected my bags and decided to check out a pre-paid taxi.
300 rupees later, I clutched my receipt and navigated the queue out front without a lot of difficulty. It took what felt like forever to get out of the airport car park but at last we were whipping through the Mumbai night.
What struck me most as we rolled at a decent speed through the city was that...it did not seem as strange or crazy or frightening as it all had when I landed at the airport the first time, arriving from the USA in late October 2009.
In fact, it seemed pretty average. I can't believe I just wrote that!
I kept track of location by reading bank branch signs... Had my friend called to ask, I wanted to say, in my twisted humor, "I'm at the corner of Amitab Baichan and Shah Rukh Khan" (two Bollywood megastars whose faces are EVERYWHERE on billboards as well as tv and film). HAHAHA
Shops and temples sailed by...
Then I saw the Breach Candy bank branch and knew we were getting close. As we veered off to the right, I suddenly actually recognized the neighborhood.
I was able to give the taxi driver exact directions from there...although it was more gesturing as my Hindi and his English were pretty much equal at...virtually none.
India India India.
Hard to explain the mindset I've been in ever since getting back. The apartment here is posh, in India terms. I took the longest hot shower I'd had since I could remember. I slept with a sheet under a ceiling fan instead of two blankets and a space heater. I ate Domino's pizza and drank white wine and laughed over how much I've changed.
I do not feel threatened by the curious stares, anymore. In fact, there don't even seem to BE any curious stares. Maybe I have just learned to look past them?
Today we went to the grocery...the same grocery which seemed dangerous and complicated during my first week here. It was...routine. Absolutely normal.
I have said it before and I will say it again.
My life will never be the same.
I have cried, but not a lot. Mainly when I get an email or a facebook chat or a phone call from someone in Mcleod. I miss them more than anything but I am somehow applying the lessons of acceptance and letting go that I learned there.
Life is good. Everything is as it should be.
I am focusing on life NOW. On working on projects both online and off which will help get me back to my heart's home in the Himalayas quickly.
My goal is to be back and teaching English conversation to the Tibetan refugees again before October...hopefully by late August.
Please check out the links below to see what I am working on:
Tibet in Exile
Tibetan Buddhist Prayer Wheels
and
Support for Tibet
As all my work in McleodGanj is self-funded and completely voluntary, I appreciate anyone who would like to make a donation to contact me for my PayPal information!
Showing posts with label teach English to Tibetans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teach English to Tibetans. Show all posts
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Said, Unsaid, Unsayable...
I must apologize that I have not been diligent in keeping up this blog. Sometimes the day to day motions of living distract me from what I am really trying to and want to say about my experience, here. Or perhaps writing it all in my journals has kept me from saying it here...
It is hard to get my mind around all that is happening here...all that is said, all that goes unsaid, all that is unsayable...and even more difficult to explain to anyone who is not here with me.
How can I describe what it is like, to be teaching English to Tibetan refugees and monks? That you have to learn to think in entirely new ways because words fail, and because sometimes concepts do not even exist in one another's cultures? I learn as much, and probably more, from them every single day.
Sometimes the most ridiculous things get said. I am collecting quotes...priceless unexpected deep and often plain silly interactions. It's like watching a group of pre-schoolers who have found a new toy or learned a new way of expressing themselves.
Sometimes hilarious misunderstandings result. It is hard to explain "slang" or "figure of speech". But we have all agreed to make silly mistakes together (and trust me, my mistakes re: speaking Tibetan and doing culturally acceptable behavior are much more embarassing than theirs!). When we say something wrong, we gently correct one another. And so we learn, and so we grow.
There is so much I want to say TO them...how their joy and courage and determination continually astound me. But because of lack of words in Tibetan, it goes unsaid.
Some things go unsaid because I am afraid...afraid to alienate the people who have come to mean the most to me.
There is much that is unsayable...whether because there are no equivilent words/concepts or because it would not be appropriate, given that I am a foreigner.
When I question my purpose here, I have to remind myself of my student who says that without me, he would not have words to express what he has wanted to say to western travelers for 15 years.
"I have only one wing", he says, and flaps his arm awkwardly. "But when my English becomes good I will have two wings, and then I will fly!" (I know he is paraphrasing something the Dalai Lama says but it is so touching, so clearly on his mind).
It is amazing to me, because I am not an English teacher. I do not even remember the correct names for all the parts of grammar, for heavens sake!
But every day, I show up, even when I feel like I just cannot do this anymore.
I show up because I love them, in the most simple meaning of the words. I want to hug them the same way I hugged my pre-schoolers when I was a teacher's aide.
I learn every day from their amazing insights, am constantly amazed by their playfulness and joy. I feel a glow when I am in their presence...something that I lost from my western life when I was about 12 years old...
Some days I feel isolated, left out. I am still a foreigner, after all. I still cannot hope to comprehend their ways of interacting and expressing themselves in their own language and culture, what is ok and what is not.
I often miss the modern amenities of life in America, but I know that when I leave here I will cry for the loss of
the beautiful connectedness I have found with these radiant beings.
It is hard to get my mind around all that is happening here...all that is said, all that goes unsaid, all that is unsayable...and even more difficult to explain to anyone who is not here with me.
How can I describe what it is like, to be teaching English to Tibetan refugees and monks? That you have to learn to think in entirely new ways because words fail, and because sometimes concepts do not even exist in one another's cultures? I learn as much, and probably more, from them every single day.
Sometimes the most ridiculous things get said. I am collecting quotes...priceless unexpected deep and often plain silly interactions. It's like watching a group of pre-schoolers who have found a new toy or learned a new way of expressing themselves.
Sometimes hilarious misunderstandings result. It is hard to explain "slang" or "figure of speech". But we have all agreed to make silly mistakes together (and trust me, my mistakes re: speaking Tibetan and doing culturally acceptable behavior are much more embarassing than theirs!). When we say something wrong, we gently correct one another. And so we learn, and so we grow.
There is so much I want to say TO them...how their joy and courage and determination continually astound me. But because of lack of words in Tibetan, it goes unsaid.
Some things go unsaid because I am afraid...afraid to alienate the people who have come to mean the most to me.
There is much that is unsayable...whether because there are no equivilent words/concepts or because it would not be appropriate, given that I am a foreigner.
When I question my purpose here, I have to remind myself of my student who says that without me, he would not have words to express what he has wanted to say to western travelers for 15 years.
"I have only one wing", he says, and flaps his arm awkwardly. "But when my English becomes good I will have two wings, and then I will fly!" (I know he is paraphrasing something the Dalai Lama says but it is so touching, so clearly on his mind).
It is amazing to me, because I am not an English teacher. I do not even remember the correct names for all the parts of grammar, for heavens sake!
But every day, I show up, even when I feel like I just cannot do this anymore.
I show up because I love them, in the most simple meaning of the words. I want to hug them the same way I hugged my pre-schoolers when I was a teacher's aide.
I learn every day from their amazing insights, am constantly amazed by their playfulness and joy. I feel a glow when I am in their presence...something that I lost from my western life when I was about 12 years old...
Some days I feel isolated, left out. I am still a foreigner, after all. I still cannot hope to comprehend their ways of interacting and expressing themselves in their own language and culture, what is ok and what is not.
I often miss the modern amenities of life in America, but I know that when I leave here I will cry for the loss of
the beautiful connectedness I have found with these radiant beings.
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